


Better Late Than Never

by kelios



Series: Moments [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Belated Birthday, Dean's Birthday, M/M, Schmoop, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelios/pseuds/kelios
Summary: Sam forgets Dean's birthday while they're working a particularly tricky case, but luckily Dean's willing to let him make it up to him.





	Better Late Than Never

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely adapted from a twitter fic I wrote for @koImikaeIsus. idk if she liked it or not, but _I_ did, and decided to play around with it a little. 
> 
> Here's a link to the original ficlet if anyone wants to see how it started. https://twitter.com/kelios/status/957071933635465216

It's two days before Sam realizes what he did. Dean would never say anything, of course, especially since they'd been in the middle of a tricky case. But Sam still feels like shit for forgetting, especially with everything else that's gone on lately. So he decides to make it right. Nothing big, that would just be awkward. Just enough to be an apology and an "I love you" rolled together. 

Sam starts small, ordering both of them a slice of pie at the diner where they stop on the way home. The case hadn't been messy, thank God, so they weren't likely to get the cops called on them. Dean's eyes light up when the waitress drops the plates on the table. "On the house," she says, and winks at Sam. 

Two bites in and Sam pushes his plate over toward Dean. "Stuffed," he says, smiling, and Dean doesn't have to be told twice. He digs in, but saves the last bite, holding it out to Sam with his own version of 'the puppy eyes'. Sam gives in and takes it off the fork as Dean's eyes shine. 

They don't make it back to the bunker that night, and Dean barely raises an eyebrow when Sam asks to pull off at a nicer hotel than they usually stay at. Sam just shrugs. "I want a real shower," he says. "'m spoiled." Dean rolls his eyes but the gleam in his eyes tells Sam he knows something's up, which is fine, honestly. Sam's gonna tell him anyway, after all. 

Their room does indeed have a nice shower, with fantastic water pressure. They take turns, because as Dean has pointed out more than once--shower sex is /complicated/, especially for guys their size. Sam doesn't bother getting dressed when he's done, just digs out the bottle of massage oil he’s taken to carrying with him and sprawls facedown across the bed with his damp towel still loose around his waist. He can feel Dean’s eyes on him when his brother emerges in a cloud of steam, taking in the picture Sam has staged for him. 

The bed dips a moment later, too soon for Dean to have gotten dressed. “Need a hand, Sammy?” Dean asks, pleased. His hand falls warm and soft on the curve of Sam’s back, rubbing gently, offering. It’s become a sometimes ritual for them, the kind of pleasure that they can write off as work--they both get banged up pretty good on hunts, and neither of them is getting any younger. Taking the time to work out knotted, strained muscles after a hunt means they're less likely to tip over into something more serious later on. And there’s the unspoken meaning as well--Sam’s willingness to let Dean take care of him. In some ways it still goes against the grain, but Sam has come to understand how much taking care of him like this means to Dean, and he’s _trying_. 

"Hey," Sam murmurs, sleepy despite his intentions, and Dean takes that for permission. He settles across Sam’s lower back, careful not to rest his full weight on him until he's sure Sam's not too sore, then opens the bottle and pours out a handful. 

"I hope you didn't get that girly shit this time," Dean mutters as he lets the oil warm in his palm. Sam rolls his eyes, instinct even though Dean can't see him. 

"No, this is totally manly massage oil," he says drily. "Scout's honor."

Dean makes a dismissive sound as he drips the oil onto Sam’s skin. “You were never a Boy Scout, Sammy.” He starts with Sam's shoulders, thumbs digging hard into the muscles he knows are most likely to tighten up. Sam moans into the pillow as the knots loosen, warmth spreading through him as he relaxes and gives himself over to the feel of Dean’s hands on his skin. Dean leans into him, dipping close enough to whisper against Sam’s ear. “Feel good, Sammy?” Sam can feel how much Dean is enjoying this, the hot swell of his dick sliding over Sam’s ass as he works.

“Fuck yes,” Sam tells him fervently. Sam tends to forget how much he enjoys this when he lets himself go, but once Dean starts he can’t get enough. His hips rock against the rough bedspread as Dean hits a particularly tight knot, dragging another moan from his throat, and Dean laughs softly. He pauses for a moment to get more oil, and Sam remembers the other reason they’re doing this. 

"Sorry I kinda got distracted about your birthday," Sam says quietly as Dean works the tight muscles of his lower back, and Dean makes a softly disgruntled sound. 

"Just a birthday, Sam, I'll have more." 

Sam shrugs, earning himself a slap on the ass and a muttered _keep still_. "Yeah, but still. I--we never know--." 

Dean’s hands still, causing Sam to shift impatiently under him and earn himself another slap. "We were in the middle of a case," Dean points out. " 'Sides, this way I have guilt points. And don't think I won't use them." Sam just laughs, relieved even though he knew Dean would forgive him. "Almost done," Dean says, wiping his hands on his towel. He rubs the excess oil from Sam’s back and tosses the towel on the floor, taking Sam’s with it. “Turn over.” 

“Almost?” Sam says, playing coy. It comes out breathless as Dean rolls his hips just right, the head of his dick sliding hot and wet over the crease of his ass. They both groan, and Sam doesn’t make Dean wait any longer, just as eager as his brother for what comes next. 

Dean shifts up onto his knees as Sam rolls onto his back. Sam’s hands finding Dean’s hips and tug him down into a long, languid kiss, only letting Dean pull back when they’re both dizzy with want and lack of oxygen. 

“Enough foreplay,” Dean growls against Sam’s lips. “Want you.” 

Sam nods, half dazed with need, reaching for the oil still on the nightstand. “Let me--”

“Don’t need to, Sammy.” Dean stops him, guides Sam’s hand back to his opening instead. Sam groans when he feels how slick and loose Dean is, two fingers sliding deep into his brother without resistance. Dean arches above him, head thrown back in pleasure, and Sam thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. “Didn’t want to wait, just wanted you in me. Then I came out here and you were...you looked…” He doesn’t finish the thought, no room left for words as Sam pushes another finger into him, unerringly seeking out that spot inside him. His hands curl into fists against Sam’s chest as he rocks back onto Sam’s fingers, breath coming fast and ragged as Sam wraps his other hand around his cock. “Oh, God, Sammy. _Fuck_.” 

“Come for me, Dean,” Sam begs, stripping Dean’s cock fast and hard, exactly the way he likes. Dean shudders, his hole clenching tight around Sam’s fingers, his cock jerking and swelling in Sam’s hand as he lets go with a low cry. White streaks Sam’s chest, his throat, his fingers as he works Dean through it, the ache of his own arousal almost forgotten as he watches his brother fall apart. 

“Beautiful,” Sam breathes, and sits up abruptly, pulling his fingers free of Dean’s body as he pushes him down onto his back. “Dean--I need--can I--” 

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean says dazedly. “Want you to, want you in me--” 

Sam doesn’t need any more encouragement, finally sinking into Dean’s tight, wet warmth in one long push. Dean pulls him close, legs wrapped around Sam’s waist, hands buried in Sam’s hair as he urges him on softly, wordlessly, kisses pressed to Sam’s face and shoulders and every part of him that Dean can reach. Sam doesn’t-- _can’t_ \--hold out long, catching Dean’s mouth in a desperate kiss as he comes deep inside him, letting Dean drink down the sound of his own name falling from Sam’s lips like a prayer. 

Afterwards, when he can breathe again, Sam eases out of Dean carefully, smiling as he collapses onto the bed beside him. He leans over just enough to grab one of their towels off the floor, cleaning Dean up carefully, then himself. 

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean mumbles sleepily. He barely shifts when Sam tugs and pulls at the blankets until they’re both comfortable, just turns toward Sam with a contented sigh. "Might have been a little late but that was still a damn good birthday, if you ask me."

Sam mmms his agreement and Dean pulls him closer, firm against his chest. Sam pulls Dean's arm around him, their clasped hands centered over his heart. "Night, jerk."  
"Night, bitch.”


End file.
